


Only the Moon Howls

by SwedishNerd



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU: Wolfpacks/Vampire Covens, Angst, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, THIS IS A WIP, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:30:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwedishNerd/pseuds/SwedishNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." George Carlin</p>
<p>This can't be real. There is no way this is actually happening. I must be crazy, delusional from infection. There's no other explanation.</p>
<p>John's life, his very existence, is flipped on it's end. His choices in aftermath of that fateful night will determine not only his future, but that of the rest of his new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only the Moon Howls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic... That I'm posting at least. Please be gentle. This is a WIP, but updates should, hopefully, be regular. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Not betaed, all mistakes are my own.

It was cold and quiet, I could feel something hard jabbing into my ribcage and the smell of dirt after a fresh rain was invading my every thought. Where am I? I lifted my head to be greeted by the smallest sliver of moonlight poking through the dense canopy of trees above me. Oh… 

I pulled myself, with the greatest of effort, up to my knees. Everything ached, it felt like the skin of my back might tear in two if I stretched too hard. I braced my hand on the tree root that had been poking me and made breathing difficult. Too fast… 

I should have stayed down on the ground just a little longer, but I could hear them. Still far off, but getting closer the longer I stayed there. I felt, more than saw, a clearing just a few yards in front of me. I could feel her pulling me, so I gathered what little strength I had and crawled to her. The moment I felt her gaze upon me I gasped in a breath I didn't know I needed. It was like I had been drowning. Help…

I stood there, covered in blood, mine given the familiar smell, and thought “Well, shit.” I hadn't expected any of this, hadn't anticipated the betrayal, the desperate pain in my thoughts that mirrored that of my battered body. I looked to her, “I know I haven't exactly embraced you, that I've fought this, tooth and nail, but I need you. I need your help, your guidance.” My voice broke. The tears fell, stinging from my eyes. Please…

I hadn't cried in a long time. Soldiers don't cry, scared little boys cry. I squared my shoulders, the left protesting vehemently. It hadn't liked that position since that night, the one that turned my very existence on it’s end. I closed my eyes, willed the tears to stop and waited. I needed to feel the pull, the burn. Please…

My shoulders slumped. Why would I have thought she'd help me? I haven't exactly received her with open arms, I've been a right bastard. Just when my knees buckled, finally giving into the strain, I felt it. The burning in my spine, the inferno. It licked through me like a wildfire, spreading faster than I've ever felt before. Thank you…

The howl was torn from my throat, raw and sorrowful, before I could stop it. They were getting closer, they moved so fast I was surprised they hadn't caught up sooner. I hit the damp earth and took off like a bolt of lightning. The surge of power from the change propelling me forward. I veered right on instinct, thinking only of putting more distance between myself and them. Move…

As I ran the wind changed direction, I took a deep, settling breath and caught the scent of exhaust. I ran a little faster, knowing they'd be moving faster to get to me now that they had heard me. I couldn’t hear them over the beating of my heart, the harsh pumping of my adrenaline laced blood through my veins, but I knew they couldn't be far off. As I got closer to the road I caught a familiar scent, lilac. Molly…

If Molly was near than the others couldn't be far off. Another deep breath and I caught Greg’s familiar earthy scent just as I heard him shout “Oi! He's over here! I can smell ‘im! Bring the truck over here Sal!” I headed towards their comforting scents, relief flooding through me as burst through the brush. “Shit!” Sally cursed, “He doesn't look too good.” My legs were shaking with the effort it took to stay upright. I collapsed as everything went black. I can't…

I awoke, naked, in the bed of the truck after my head collided with the wheel well. Sally must be driving, my sluggish brain supplied. A suspicion that was confirmed when I heard Greg say “Fuck Sally! Slow down! He has enough injuries to worry about without you adding more!” “Sorry” she at least had the good grace to sound contrite through her gritted teeth. “Easy love, try not to move too much.” Mary soothed as she laved a damp cloth over my face. “We’re almost home, we’ll get you patched up.” Home…

My eyes snapped open as a pain filled hiss escaped my lips “Fuck!” “Sorry! Sorry!” Molly apologized, “We have to clean all the wounds before we can apply the salve.” “I..” I croaked, unable to get more than one syllable out, my throat giving a painful twinge. Silently, Mary pressed a straw to severely chapped lips. “Drink.” I took a pull on the straw and felt the soothing balm of the draught slide down my throat. I closed my eyes. Thank you…

When I woke this time it was to the strained, slightly muffled shouting coming from down below. “I don't care what you have to say Donovan! I want to see John!” Sherlock below in his deep, condescending baritone which was sure to get Sally’s hackles up. “Listen here you insensitive freak!...” “That’s enough!” Greg and Mycroft shouted in unison. I was still in a great deal of pain, but I still managed a weak chuckle picturing Sally and Sherlock’s outraged faces. “Oh good, he's awake. JOHN!! I'm coming up!” “Oh no you're not!” Greg had clearly put himself between Sherlock and the stairs if Sherlock’s undignified grunt of frustration was anything to go by. My body protested as I hauled myself out of my bed and a week whine escaped my throat. “He's sick, he needs rest. You can see him when he’s feeling better.” Mary, always the voice of reason, tried to calm Sherlock. Fat chance…

I slowly made my way to the stairs, taking them one at a time. When I came into view Sherlock took a step towards them only to take two steps back, hands raised in surrender upon hearing the snarl that forced it’s way out of Greg. Molly stepped forward, carefully avoiding Anthea’s outstretched hand. She had no interest in watching the poor girl get in between an angry Greg and the object of his ire. She flashed her a small reassuring smile which, judging by the slight frown that graced her delicate brow, did nothing to appease Anthea’s worries. “Greg,” he spared a brief moment of staring down Sherlock to flash her a warning glare, “I think John has something to say.” She raised her eyes to where I was standing just behind him. Sigh...

It just goes to show how angry he was that he hadn't noticed my presence. We shared a meaningful glance before I lifted my face to stare into the icy eyes that were attempting to bore holes straight through to my soul. “You have a great deal of explaining to do.” There was no anger in my voice, just a soft note of hurt. This surprised everyone in the room, myself included. Well, almost everyone. Molly flashed me an encouraging smile and went to sit on the love seat. Anthea was itching to go to her, but the quelling glare from Mycroft kept her in place. He was holding his umbrella in a way that brokered no doubts as to what was hidden inside. “Why should –“ he started, only to be swiftly cut off by Sherrinford. “Don't! He deserves to know.” Everyone’s eyes flickered towards the two brothers as they began a silent squabble. We were used to it by now, but it could still be a little unnerving to watch the Holmes brothers have one of their ‘super creepy staring matches’ as Sally called them. While everyone was busy staring at them, I was busy staring at Holmes the younger. His ever changing eyes never once leaving mine. I should be angry, livid even, but I couldn't bring myself to. I was, simply put, hurt. Heartbroken…

The pain of that emotion must have passed over my face as Sherlock let out a distressed sound that caused the older Holmeses to turn their eyes to him. “Very well,” Mycroft conceded. He always did where Sherlock was concerned. Sherrinford tried and failed to hide his smug smile, a smile that made Mary huff a giggle. She shouldn't encourage him, but given the way her cheeks darkened as Ford’s smirk turned into an all out blinding grin, she probably couldn't help herself. I can't very well blame her, given the fact that, despite everything I had just been through, I still found myself leaning towards Sherlock unconsciously. Love…

Greg must have noticed as he took that moment to turn around and all but carry me to my chair. Standing guard behind me, he gave a pointed glare to Sherlock and then to the room at large. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly,” my voice was still raspy, but feeling much better than before. I was already healing so quickly, the change would have helped to accelerate the process despite it’s brevity. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I said “It's only fair that if you have to explain,” I chanced a glance at Sherlock, he was listening intently for once, “that I, we, should too.” Sherlock focused his unerring stare on me, which, given the situation, shouldn't have made my blood sing and my stomach tighten in anticipation, but what can I say? “Well then,” his soothing baritone voice washed over me and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. “Let’s get started.” How it all began…


End file.
